


The Forgotten

by carinims01



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bromance, No Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carinims01/pseuds/carinims01
Summary: They were friends, right? They had fought alongside each other, hadn't they? He'd saved Gwaine, and Camelot, time and time again. So why couldn't he remember the young man named Merlin? Did he want to remember? And what about everyone else? And what if it was too late? Rated G. No slash. Reveal-fic.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fic here on Ao3. All of my work is posted on fanfiction.net, but I wanted to experiment a bit on here. Hope you like it!

It began when Gwaine saw a green cloak slouching against the castle walls watching the knights train. Well, it began... again. 

There was nothing odd about someone watching them. Oftentimes, a few townspeople would come and observe their training. Both young and old. Those who, could very possibly grow up to be knights, and those that had long since passed the age of knighthood. They were used to it. In fact, Gwaine had seen this particular cloak quite often. Perhaps a few times a week for the past three months. He wasn’t a threat by any means, but more and more, something was pulling on Gwaine.

He was different. 

The knight couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about him. Perhaps it was the way he never reacted. While the others, the children especially, would cheer their favorite knight on during duels, he would just stand there stoically. Watching. 

He couldn’t see his face, or much of his body, even. The cloak hid a great deal of him and his face was cast in shadow. Still, there was nothing significant about him. None of the other knights deemed him important. Arthur hadn’t so much as given him a second look. 

Gwaine didn’t know why it was bothering him so much. 

He was nearly knocked off his feet with fright when the king’s sword clank’d against his own. However, he most certainly did not jump like a cornered cat or give a startled yelp.

“Gwaine, have you been listening at all?” Arthur snapped. He stuck his sword in the ground and crossed his arms.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure. By the way that Arthur’s eyes were narrowed and brow furrowed, no, he’d missed it all. He didn’t even know he’d been watching the cloaked man that long. Or that he’d been staring at all. 

“Erm.” 

The king rolled his eyes, plucking his sword out of the ground. “Of course not. You are facing Elyan and Leon in a duel—over there. We haven’t done two on one’s in a while. You’re lucky I’m not putting you against Percival.”

Gwaine looked behind him once more to where the man had been standing. He was gone. The knight ran a gloved hand through his hair, stalking over to where his friends stood, waiting. If Arthur hadn’t interrupted him, he might have figured it out this time. He tightened his grip on his sword, focusing all his self-annoyance on training. 

Leon and Elyan didn’t go easy on him. He was sure he had a dozen more bruises to add to the collection. He considered going to see Gaius, but he’d lived through worse. He’d just be sore. And all Gaius would recommend was rest.

Nothing a little bit of ale couldn’t help with. Maybe he could even wrangle up the gang to go to the tavern with him tonight. He grinned to himself as he walked down the corridor to his room. He peeled off his armour as quickly as he could with aching muscles and changed into a fresh tunic. Splashing some water on his face, he realized that he still couldn’t get the man off his mind. 

Maybe he should mention it to Arthur, at least. Even if it was stupid. 

He jumped down the hall to Percival’s room. Then Leon’s. Then Elyan’s. And to add to it, sweet Guinevere was there, and with some courtly words and some good-natured threats from Elyan that Gwen was, in fact, fully capable of kicking his rear, even she agreed to come. She was even able to convince his royal highness to come, which was quite out of the ordinary.

The more the merrier, he always said. 

And it was after Gwaine had gotten a few pints of ale within him that he pulled him aside (as they were getting another round, of course) and asked if he’d taken note of the cloaked man during practice. 

“I have, but he seems of no consequence,” Arthur said easily. “Probably just some village boy dreaming of being a knight one day.” 

Gwaine tried to understand, but he wasn’t quite convinced. It was too easy. It still didn’t fit. 

An hour later they left, full of mead and warm food. They all made sure that Guinevere got back to her house in the lower town safely before climbing their way up towards the castle. 

It was then that they heard a muffled yell coming from behind them. 

And the knights, though wholly unarmed, were still knights. 

Arthur led them through the lower town, past several houses whose candles had long since been burnt out. A dog barked several cottages away. 

There was another yell. Followed by a rather loud crash.

The king whipped around the next corner. “Hey! What’s going on here?” 

The rest of the knights followed quickly behind him. A lone man was standing in the middle of the alleyway, a knife in his hand and what looked like blood glinting off of it. Behind him, another figure lay prone on the ground on top of, and slightly hidden by, broken crates. When the attacker saw the full group, however, he promptly dropped the knife and ran the other way.

“Percival, Leon, after him!” Arthur shouted. “Elyan! Fetch Gaius! Gwaine, stay with him!” 

The king raced down the alleyway with his other two knights as Elyan sprinted in the other direction. Gwaine jumped towards the prone figure but was stopped in his tracks by... green. 

It was the green cloak.

The same one that he couldn’t seem to get out of his head.

With renewed efforts, he threw the offending wood off of the man and looped his arms beneath him, pulling him out of the wreckage and setting him on the ground. With a gasp, Gwaine realized that Arthur had, by some measure, been correct. He was only a young man. He couldn’t be older than twenty five. His hair was jet black, his skin pale, his clothing simple.

Merlin.

Sudden panic shot through him as he remembered the blood dripping off the attacker’s blade. And sure enough, there was a deep cut in the man’s side. Blood ebbed out of the wound. Gwaine didn’t think his life was at risk, but it would certainly be debilitating. And hurt like hell. There was blood seeping out of a few other areas, too, including a nasty head wound. 

“Oh, god,” he hissed. 

The young man’s eyes suddenly burst open, locking on him. Gwaine could see fear there, but also relief. The knight didn’t think he’d ever forget the pained look on that too-familiar face as he whispered, “Gwaine.” He was panting. Sweat gathered at his brow. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Stop right there!” 

The knight looked up to see two Camelotian guards running at them with torches. Gwaine really needed to talk to Arthur about his night guards. 

“G-Gwaine.” 

His attention was once more drawn towards the young man in his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine. I’ve got you.” 

It didn’t seem to appease him. Nor did it take away the grief or pain that was growing in the young man’s blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, the young man licked his lips and grasped at Gwaine’s tunic as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There was a flash of gold and suddenly, Merlin was gone. 

Gwaine bolted to his feet and turned on his heels, searching. “What?”

The knight knew no one just vanished. At least, not without magic. His next thought startled and confused him more than even the persisting question of who the man in the green cloak had been.

Who the hell is Merlin?


End file.
